The ploughman, though he labour hard,
Yet on the holy day,

High trolollie, lollie, lol; high trolollie, lee;
No emperor so merrily

Does pass his time away:

Then care away, and wend along with me.

To recompense our tillage

The heavens afford us showers,

High trolollie, lollie, lol; high trolollie, lee; And for our sweet refreshments

The earth affords us bowers :

Then care away, and wend along with me.

The cuckoo and the nightingale
Full merrily do sing,

High trolollie, lollie, lol; high trolollie, lee:
And with their pleasant roundelays

Bid welcome to the spring:

Then care away, and wend along with me.

This is not half the happiness

The countryman enjoys,

High trolollie, lollie, lol; high trolollie, lee: Though others think they have as much, Yet he that says so lies:

Then care away, and wend along with me.

PATIENT GRISSEL.

The story of Griselda was first told in the Decameron. Boccaccio derived the incidents from Petrarch, and Petrarch seems to have communicated them also to Chaucer, who (in his “Clerk of Oxenford's Tale") first made known the tale to English readers. The ballad here given is taken from Thomas Deloney's “ Garland of Good Will," a collection which was printed some time before 1596.

66

NOBLE marquess, as he did ride a-hunting,
Hard by a river side,

A proper maiden, as she did sit a-spinning,
His gentle eye espy'd :

Most fair and lovely, and of comely grace was she,

Although in simple attire;

She sang most sweetly, with pleasant voice melodiously Which set the lord's heart on fire.

The more he lookt, the more he might;

Beauty bred his heart's delight,

And to this damsel he went.

"God speed," quoth he, "thou famous flower,

Fair mistress of this homely bower,

Where love and vertue live with sweet content."

With comely gesture and modest mild behaviour
She bad him welcome then ;

She entertain'd him in a friendly manner,

And all his gentlemen.

The noble marquess in his heart felt such flame

Which set his senses all at strife;

Quoth he, "Fair maiden, shew soon what is thy name: I mean to take thee to my wife."

Grissel is my name," quoth she, "Far unfit for your degree;

A silly maiden, and of parents poor." "Nay, Grissel, thou art rich," he said, "A vertuous, fair, and comely maid;

Grant me thy love, and I will ask no more."

At length she consented, and being both contented, They married were with speed;

Her country russet was turned to silk and velvet,

As to her state agreed :

And when that she was trimly attired in the same, Her beauty shin'd most bright,

Far staining every other brave and comely dame.

That did appear in sight.

Many envied her therefore,

Because she was of parents poor,

And twixt her lord and her great strife did raise:

Some said this, and some said that,

Some did call her beggars brat,

And to her lord they would her oft dispraise.

"O noble marquess," quoth they, "why do you wrong us,

Thus basely for to wed,

That might have got an honourable lady

Into your princely bed?

Who will not now your noble issue still deride,

Which shall be hereafter born,

That are of blood so base by the mother's side,

The which will bring them to scorn?

Put her, therefore, quite away;

Take to you a lady gay,

Whereby your lineage may renowned be."

Thus every day they seemed to prate

At malic'd Grissel's good estate,

Who took all this most mild and patiently.

When that the marquess did see they were bent thus

Against his faithful wife,

Whom most dearly, tenderly, and intirely

He loved as his life;

Minding in secret for to prove her patient heart,

Thereby her foes to disgrace;

Thinking to play a hard discourteous part,

That men might pity her case,— Great with child this lady was,

And at length it came to pass,

Two lovely children at one birth she had;

A son and daughter God had sent,

Which did their father well content,

And which did make their mothers heart full glad.

Great royal feasting was at the childrens christ'ning,
And princely triumph made;

Six weeks together, all nobles that came thither

Were entertain'd and staid.

And when that these pleasant sportings were quite done,

The marquess a messenger sent

For his young daughter and his pretty smiling son,

Declaring his full intent,

How that the babes must murthered be,

For so the marquess did decree.

"Come, let me have the children," he said:

With that fair Grissel wept full sore,

She wrung her hands and said no more;

"My gracious lord must have his will obey'd."

She took the babies from the nursing-ladies,
Between her tender arms;

She often wishes, with many sorrowful kisses,
That she might help their harms.

'Farewel," quoth she, "my children dear;
Never shall I see you again;

E E